


tumblr drabbles.

by lannisnow



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:07:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannisnow/pseuds/lannisnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>multiple different drabbles suggested by anons and my friends on tumblr. most of them are peter/stiles, but there are a few gen.<br/>1. "amuse me" stiles and jackson<br/>2. "quiet me/break me" laura and stiles<br/>3. "drink me" peter and stiles<br/>4. "break me" peter and chris (and stiles)<br/>5. "haunt me" laura and derek<br/>6. "haunt me" peter and stiles<br/>7. "mourn me" peter and stiles</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "amuse me" stiles and jackson

“so what, you’re the kanima.”

“so what? this isn’t a game, stilinski, this is real life, if you haven’t noticed with your head stuck so far up your a-“

“okay, got it. it’s real life, wonderful. you’re a five foot ten lizard monster with razor sharp teeth and a six foot long tail. and claws. also teeth. did i mention the teeth?” stiles grimaces, bares his teeth in the most threatening way he can muster. jackson doesn’t even blink.

“i. am going. to strangle you.”

“woah, calm down there, thug behram, let’s think this through.” jackson doesn’t even look impressed at stiles’s extensive knowledge of serial killers. stiles frowns. “you could instead let me help you. you know, i helped scott. i’m a pretty great yoda.” jackson pulls a face that stiles didn’t even know was possible.

“you’re not going to be my yoga or whatever. why are you even talking to me?”

stiles pulls another frown. this one, he thinks, derek would be proud of it’s practically a grade a pout. “just thought you’d want some help. but alright, i can see your head’s too big. but don’t come crawling to me when you spill your teacher’s guts.”

when jackson just glares back in reply, stiles shrugs and pushes himself up from the lunch table, waves half-heartedly over his shouder. “alright. see ya later, lizard man. let me know if you change your mind.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "quiet me" laura and stiles

“i can watch him,” laura says to derek, a small smile playing at her face.

“why would you? he’s a human.” derek sneers. at fourteen, he’s heard too many stories of hunters, of how bad humans are, how much devastation they bring. laura’s face pinches in disapproval and derek makes himself visibly smaller, ducking his head in apology.

“not all of them,” she retorts, pulling out her cell phone and dialing the number on the flier. “some of them are nice.”

—

the deputy is a nice man. he gives laura a tour of the house, and gestures at the plate on the table. “i made sure to save enough for you.” he clears his throat and checks his beeper awkwardly. “stiles has to be in bed by eight, but if he refuses or he’s been really good you can stretch it to nine.”

it’s summer break, laura thinks. he shouldn’t have to be in bed so early, but he needs to be on a schedule, maybe. or maybe the deputy is trying to save her from a long night and a cranky child.

“i appreciate this more than you can imagine. your family has always been so good to this neighborhood,” he says with a smile. laura smiles back.

“it’s no problem. i’m glad to do it. it was this or sit at home alone while my brother was at swimming practice and the rest of the family was on vacation.” she smiles wider. they’re not… technically on vacation. gone, though. all except for her uncle Peter, who decided to skip out on going to see the birth of the newest hale, born into a neighboring pack.

the deputy gives her a final list of numbers to call, thanks her approximately half a dozen more times, and leaves.

stiles doesn’t come out of his bedroom. laura starts to wonder if he’s escaped, climbed through the window and made an escape. but then there’s a sense, a tingle that latches onto her spine and makes her shiver, makes her panic, sends anxiety coursing through her veins.

she rushes the stairs just as the first muted cry hits her ears. the door opens with no resistance, not closed, not locked, just barely propped open.

stiles is nowhere to be seen, but another small cry hits her ears and she tunes into it, into his breathing and the beat of his heart. he’s under a child’s desk at the far end of the room, curled into a ball, his fists grabbing at his small jeans, biting his knuckles.

laura moves quickly and gathers him into her arms. stiles makes a noise, the smallest cry, and grabs onto her instead. he whispers, “mama,” into her hair and she takes in a breath.

“i’m so sorry.” she says as she rocks him. his sobs get louder; at first they’re just cries, until they’re shaking his entire body and he’s having a hard time even making noise, gasping for breath.

her words are an attempt at soothing. she has no idea how he feels. her family is huge, so completely woven into each other she doesn’t understand the dynamic that stiles has lived. she doesn’t understand his loss.

he starts to breathe again in uneven patterns, she smooths her hand over his buzzed head and presses her lips against his small shoulder.

“go to sleep, sweetheart,” she whispers. “maybe she’ll see you in your dreams.”

he lets out a shuddering breath, and in the next, he is asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "drink me" peter and stiles

it’s new years, officially. peter is tired. he’s drunk and he’s tired.

thank goodness for lydia, he thinks in the back of his mind as a smile plays on his lips. thank goodness for that beautiful red-headed spitfire being able to find just the right type of wolfsbane to let them get drunk. his entire body is warm with alcohol, makes him groan and turn in his chair happily. it’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself to be intoxicated but, for a change, he feels safe.

they’ve accepted him around this pack, made him not only an honorary member, but come to him almost as though he is their beloved uncle.

he’s not exactly sure how he managed that after manipulating their beloved lydia and plotting to murder a few members, exactly, but he’s glad that he feels safe now, again.

his bottle sits half-downed on the table next to him. he stares at it and watches it swirl. he knows it isn’t actually swirling, that his mind is doing it, but he watches it swirl anyhow, holds back a chuckle as it blurs into two bottles and he tries to reach for it, fails miserably.

“need help with that?” is all the warning he gets before a body is landing on top of his. he feels the breath forced out of his lungs and he growls as stiles writhes on top of him. “i can get ‘ur bottle here lemme… grab it-“

stiles fails in his attempt as well, and peter doesnt hold back the laugh this time, as pathetic and small as it is. stiles laughs too and fists his hands in peter’s shirt, lays his cheek against his shoulder.

they have never been close, but this doesn’t feel at all uncomfortable, or unexpected. peter has always liked stiles. maybe not quite in the way that stiles straddling him in a drunken state would entail, but enough that he isn’t pushing him away or growling.

“‘ur really really warm, like fire,” stiles grumbles into peter’s shoulder. peter laughs.

“maybe not the best comparison?” peter isn’t sure why it comes out as a question but he purrs lightly and brushes his nose against stiles’s ear.

“oh yeah. ‘cuz you and fire that whole thing twice. yeah. okay. m’sorry that was bad. really bad.” stiles’s voice gets softer, his breath is evening out, and peter can hear his heartbeat thud calmly against his chest.

yes, he’s definitely glad they have accepted him into this pack, their misfit group of wolves and humans and everything in-between. as stiles’s soft snores lull him into sleep, he thinks, happy new year.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "break me" peter and chris (mentions of stiles)

“it wasn’t supposed to be derek,” chris says from the foot of peter’s hospital bed. “it was always supposed to be you. you were older, more open to humans. derek was so shy.” chris shakes his head and sits, leans back onto his hands as he thinks.

“but you didn’t show any interest in her at all. she told me you looked right through her at the bar that night. right through her, to me.” he pauses to breathe, to look out the window where the patients wander the hospital courtyard. one family sits just off to the side at a table, a little boy with a buzzed hair, an older man and bald woman who hold hands across the table from him as he moves his arms in a flutter. the kid is about allison’s age, maybe a year younger, but just as expressive as she is, just as bright, he is willing to bet.

chris sighs. “i told her i couldn’t do it. i’m not like her. i couldn’t… seduce anyone and kill their family. i have a wife, a daughter, i just…” he shivers, just a bit, goes silent as he collects himself.

“there were only two options left and derek? god, he was just a kid.” chris breathes and his hand drifts to peter’s foot under the blanket. he lays his hand over peter’s ankle, eyebrows coming together as he thinks. ”it was easiest. laura wouldn’t even look at kate, but derek? derek fell in love with her at first sight.” chris wonders if peter can hear him, if he’s talking to nothing, to a husk of a person.

“it was so against the code,” he whispers, shaking his head. and it was, killing them. killing them all, at least. not all beasts are evil, he’s learned through the code. and maybe he doesn’t subscribe to the idea entirely, but there were humans in that house. and innocent pups.

it was against the code. “she did it anyway.” chris’s eyes dart around the room and land on a small child’s drawing of a house. derek and laura are too old to have drawn it, wherever they are, and nothing survived the fire, it couldn’t have been one of the other hale relatives. he stares at it but doesn’t ask, knows peter wouldn’t answer. in red crayon, the name ‘stiles’ is scrawled along the bottom in a child’s handwriting.

“they’re letting you live,” he says once he’s finally ripped his eyes from the drawing. “your wounds are so bad they think you’ll die in days.” they’ll move on to fight more monsters that go bump in the night, to play vigilante to someone else’s family.

“i wanted to let you know that i’m sorry. about letting her do this to you, to your family.” chris stands and stares down at peter at last, at the burns that rip through the skin of his face that used to be so alive and open. he looks dead, and chris would believe it was so if he didnt watch peter’s chest rise and fall in the shallowest rate.

“i am sorry. i’d take it all back if i could.”

peter doesn’t move except for his chest. it rises and falls at the same, constant rate. chris reaches forward, pulls his hand back as if its scorched by fire at the last second and shakes his head. he’s talking to a dead man.

“goodbye, friend.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "haunt me" laura and derek

“i could have saved you.”

“yes,” she whispers, kisses his forehead and runs her hands through his hair. “you could have.”

“i could have done something.”

she hums this time, presses her thumb to his cheekbone and rubs it up and under his eye, down the bridge of his nose and back up, over his eyebrows. her palm brushes over his cheek and he leans into the touch, pressing his eye into the heel of her hand. it twinges, a little. just enough pressure to make him feel her.

“i forgive him. peter,” laura says, her lips raising in the smallest smile. he catches it just as it disappears from her face, as the look in her expressive eyes flutters from humor back to their ever-present neutral. she always hated showing emotion, but she was so good at it.

“but not me. you don’t forgive me.”

“no, sweetie. i don’t.” her eyes are so sad, so disappointed. his gut twists.

“you’ll never forgive me, will you?”

“i can’t,” she whispers. “our family… our parents…” she trails off, her voice caught in her throat as she shifts closer to him, leans over him and presses her head against his chest. “it was all kate. and you could have come with me, you could have stopped peter.”

“i know.”

“it was all your fault,” she whispers against his chest. he feels her tears slide onto his shirt. he reaches up to stroke her hair.

there is nothing there.

he wakes up.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "haunt me" peter and stiles

peter is dead.

no, not literally, not this time at least, but figuratively, standing where he is standing, in as much pain as he is in, and under the threat that looms just behind him, he is dead.

hunters are peter’s biggest annoyance. they have been since he was a little pup, learning the difference between wolf and human, and he learned of them from his parents. they terrorized his family, they killed his family, they were about to kill him.

the arrow in his calf ripped through his flesh with every step. he limped like a cripple, felt his life drain from his body, his hope becoming nothing but the smallest, burnt-out wick.

there was a hill at the break of the trees. a tall hill, almost a ninety degree angle. peter did not know how to classify between a hill and a cliff, but he wondered for a brief second which this technically was.

the voices just started to find him, the whispers. as though they needed to be quiet. tormenting him. they know they’ve shot him. he breathes in deep, shakes.

they’ll cut him in half. he can smell their sword. there’s no way to come back from that, no ritual, just nothing.

the finality of death overwhelms him completely.

he thinks maybe he can climb the hill. maybe the pack is there, will pull him up. he hears the hunters getting closer, their voices louder, knowing he’s nothing but dead, now.

stiles.

stiles stands on that hill, stares down at peter and there’s something in his eyes. peter is on his knees, his shoulders fallen and his body tired, defeated. he knows he looks like death, looks miserable. stiles, in his cliche red hoodie, the bag of mountain ash attached to his hip, looks nothing like his seventeen years would suggest.

to peter, he looks like death.

stiles waits, watches. as he is about to give up hope, peter keeps their eyes locked, opens his mouth, and whispers, “please.”

stiles calls for the pack.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "mourn me" peter and stiles

there had been so much fire.

it had consumed his entire body, engulfed his skin and the grass that surrounded him. lydia was so smart, so surprisingly intelligent. and stiles? stiles could remember anything at the drop of a hat.

he remembered that formula as though it was the only thing that would save his life. ironic, when he thinks back on it. peter wouldn’t have killed stiles; he doesn’t think there is a chance in hell peter would have killed him. but the molotov cocktail formula rings through his mind the second peter’s hand wraps around his arm in that parking garage, the second peter’s lips split into a grin and his teeth break from behind them.

in the moments peter was consumed in flames, stiles recalls nothing but the feeling of absolute sorrow. perhaps morbid fascination comes later, latches onto the place in his mind where the guilt tries to break the lock of its cage, but it doesn’t hit him until after he gets the scent of burning hair and flesh out of his nose.

derek landed the final blow in retrospect, but it does nothing to quell stiles’s troubled conscience. the cocktails were stiles’s idea, to burn peter for the second time was stiles’s plot.

but he won’t feel bad about it, not about that. peter’s death was for the better.

the guilt, though… it never really goes away.


End file.
